Lyrics DJ Quik – Back That Shit Up
Text:
DJ Quik:
Ace of Spades, yeah that’s my taste
It costs four bones when you buy it at the place
It’s seventeen hundred in the V.I.P.
Now we just tryna kick it ’til they kickin us out
Then I’ma show lil’ mamas what this dick is about
Cause it’s a damn movie in the back of my limo
They didn’t want it all the way so they just gave me a demo
Rubbin feels good when you’re drunk and you’re buzzin
Forgot who you was and tried to smash your cousin (I’m sorry!)
So shake that ass like a tree in the wind
Then she gon’ migrate with me and two of her friends
They let all four of us in, the after hours is poppin
We buzzin like bees but it ain’t no pollen
These niggaz want my number but it ain’t no holl’n (no)
And hookers get kicked out if it ain’t no swall’n
So wiiiiild!
Chorus — DJ Quik (Tay F 3rd):
Hold it, fold it, show it, blow it
Hoes, throw it, status, quo it
I ain’t, focused, been drinkin, been smokin
(Look — so I won’t think twice if you ever start provokin)
Back that shit up, back that shit up
Back that shit up — (Said don’t get me started)
Back that shit up, back that shit up
(I swear to God bruh, I will get this shit retarded)
Tay F 3rd:
Look — see I was just a young nigga, in this bitch thuggin
Long hair, skinny nigga, bitches used to love me
Momma told me tuck my chain, a nigga might snatch it
I was never affiliated, was in it for the thrill
An amigo ever spot it, we stomp and pop a pill
And I, guess that explain why these niggaz real
Mouths closed, pistols tucked, everybody know the drill
Doves cry when thugs die, but dude we kept it real
Did the time, pump the steel, read a book, gainin skills
Learn you can live by the gun but die by it
But the worst thing your best friend behind the trigger tryna pull it
I went through it all, been there and done it
On the Front Ave., see me lil’ nigga you can run it
Since, I was a youngin, my momma she told me fuck ’em
Have respect and have tolerance, but never let ’em run you
We wiiiiild!
Chorus
David Blake II:
Look, now I’m just a young nigga
In the code, when I couldn’t tell you how I did ’em
?
around my waist and I ain’t even got a job
I’m duckin on these niggaz, I ain’t even catch a lot
Bitches on my left, and money on my right
Money all in front of me and money on my mind
See I’m just tryna live, I kill ’em that’s in mic
See I’m about to gas, you can catch me on my bike
Yeah I’m chillin brah, I don’t even know I’m gettin off
And all these niggaz bore me, so now I’m goin soft
I ain’t askin no questions, I do it like a don
I’m standin on the top, 49th at the Palms
Got ’em lookin at my wrist, Rollie-ollie what’s the time?
Then toss it to my niggaz, you know I throw them dimes
Lookin for a turn-up, and then they found me
4 in the morning, we ain’t even sound asleep, you see?
Chorus
